Dense
by ThePhantomOfTheSilentOrchestra
Summary: Teen AU: Where Sherlock is confused about his gender and identity, and texts John for help. Slight Johnlock, not central in the story. A tad angst-y.


**A/N:**** Hi!:D So, this was originally an omegle chat that someone started with me. In this, the first line is the "stranger" and the next line is my work, and so on, so the formatting's a bit odd. I was a bit lost on the topic of the story, and I apologize if I offend anyone, but I tried to stay in character. The "stranger" tagged this as cross-dressing!/gender-confused!Sherlock. He is 16, and John is 17. **

**If you, the person who wrote this with me, are reading and want credit or for me to take it down, send me a review with why you left the chat (so I know it's you). **

Can I ask you a kind of odd question? -SH

Anything, Sherlock. -JW

Would it be weird if I started dressing differently, on occasion? -SH

It would be nice, probably, if you're gonna stop wearing suits. What'd you have in mind? -JW

Like...more feminine clothing. -SH

Like what? I'm confused... _JW

Like skirts and stuff. -SH

Oh. For an experiment? -JW

Just forget I brought it up. -SH

No, it's okay. So, not for an experiment, then? Tell me, Sherlock. -JW

Whatever you want to do, I'll support you -JW

No, not for an experiment. -SH

Okay. Honestly, it would be a bit weird, at first, but I'll get used to it. You're Sherlock Holmes. You can do anything, be anyone, and it's fine by me. -JW

I mean I don't want to dress like that all the time. -SH

Okay. I'm still a tad confused, S. -JW

In private. Or around you. I just...I don't know. -SH

You can dress however you want in front of me. I won't judge you. It's fine, it's all...fine. -JW

It's weird, I know. -SH

Not weird, I take that back. I shouldn't have used that word. It just threw me off. But I'm on board now. 100% not weird. -JW

No, it's fine. Just forget it. -SH

Sherlock. Do not make me ditch the last three periods to come over there. I will not forget it. I said it's not weird. It's not. -JW

It's just...just forget it! -SH

What's wrong? Don't be like that -JW

You don't get how hard it is. -SH

What is? -JW

Being all put together wrong. SH

Oh, Sherlock. I'm sorry. You can be whoever you want with me, you understand? I'm coming over as soon as I can. -JW

You don't have to. I'll...be fine. -SH

Okay, just left class, I'm on my way. Unlock the door please, I'm not in the mood to see Mycroft. -JW

Sherlock got up from his bed and made his way to the door, feeling horrible. He never should have brought any of this up with John. He should have just left it alone. Sighing he opened the door for John and turned around, walking right back up the stairs.

John parked his car in front of the huge house. The entire walk to to door he was nervous. John would accept Sherlock no matter what, but he had no idea what to say or do. This was Sherlock, he had to say the perfect thing or he'd make the boy feel horribly rejected and cut off. He was isolated enough as it was; John needn't screw him up anymore. With that horrible thought, he stepped inside and made his way to Sherlock's closed bedroom door. "It's me."

Sherlock was turned on his side on his bed, facing away from the door. He didn't know if he wanted John there or not because he didn't know what to do. He closed his eyes when he heard John come in a just sighed.

"Hey." John said, and climbed onto the bed with Sherlock, sitting cross-legged next to his head. John had a hand running along Sherlock's side and one playing with his hair. He knew Sherlock loved it when he played with his hair.

The gesture was relaxing and Sherlock sighed again, turning over to bury his face into John's side. He didn't say anything because he didn't know what to say or where to begin.

"Sherlock. I could say I understand what you're going through, and that everything'll be okay. You'd know that's a load though, you genius. I've no clue what's going on in that mind, or what to say to you, except, I'll be here for you. You're my best friend, and I'd do anything you ask of me to help you. Okay? But you have to talk to me." John spoke slowly, trying to form the right words. He still didn't know exactly what was happening, but did he ever with the brilliant boy?

Sherlock squirmed a bit, trying to form the right words. "I just...sometimes I don't feel comfortable." He muttered into John's jumper. "Like I've been put together wrong." It was the best way that he could explain how he felt.

John began playing with Sherlock's hair again, having forgotten for a moment, to soothe him. John honestly did not know how to respond to this. "And dressing," he didn't want to hurt Sherlock, but dammit he wasn't bright enough to know how to deal with this, "more feminine would help? Because if it will, go for it. Tell me what I can do to help, and I will."

"I don't know. Sometimes I think it will. But not all the time. Just when I'm home. Everything about me just feels...wrong." He squirmed a bit again and took a big gulp of air. "It's hard. I don't always understand it. I just feel...wrong."

John was quiet for awhile, just using his body to try and calm the squirmy boy. "Nothing about you is wrong. You're never wrong." He sighed this out, like an after-thought. "We're home now..." John trailed off.

Sherlock sat up and sniffed, wiping off his eyes. "I keep thinking that maybe if everything was different I wouldn't always feel so hopeless. I wouldn't feel so wrong and awful and I could just be happy and everything would be fine."

His heart broke a little, not having realized Sherlock was crying. John sat up as well and could not resist the urge to hug the boy back into him.

Sherlock wanted to push John away and to hide but he didn't. Instead he leaned against John and cried, not being able to hold it back anymore.

Oh god, my Sherlock. John thought. He wanted desperately to tell him how he felt, but this was probably not the best time. "I've got you. I'll protect you. You're safe with me."

Sherlock couldn't tell John how he'd been struggling for years just to feel comfortable in his own skin. How he hated looking into the mirror at himself every day. How he'd tried everything and no one ever noticed or cared. He didn't even know whether his interest in feminine clothing was genuine or if he was just looking to be noticed. But Sherlock couldn't tell John any of this. He couldn't voice it. So instead he cried harder.

John had a slight idea, either a stroke of genius or of complete, Anderson-the-jock level, stupidity. "Sherlock. Calm down. Go dress up like how you want to. Come on." John drew himself away from the genius and stood up, physically tugging Sherlock off the bed and leaving their hands intertwined. "Go on." John encouraged.

Sherlock stood looking at the ground and sniffed. He shook his head and bit on his lip. He didn't want to do this. Not in front of John. What if it didn't end up being what he wanted? What if John laughed at him?

John sensed his hesitation. "You don't have to. I just," John trailed off. "You're perfect, everything you are is perfect. I adore you, if you haven't been able to deduce that. I could never stop looking at you like you're the most incredible thing in the world, because to me you are. If you like doing this, then I just want to show you that you're perfect even being a girl by not making you feel ashamed about this. It's nothing to be ashamed about, and especially not in front of me." He hoped he had got something right, he really did.

He surged forward and wrapped himself in John's arms, crying into the crook of his neck. "I'm sorry." He muttered, unsure what he was even apologising for. "I'm sorry." He kept repeating it, not seemingly able to stop.

"No, shush, I'm sorry. I don't even know how to make you feel okay, you Sherlock, my world. I'm sorry. Please, stop crying, Sher." John didn't realize he was crying, so upset with seeing Sherlock sob, until his voice choked. He held his own tears back as best he could, because this was about Sherlock. He wished he could take this boy's pain away, he wished he could be suffering instead.

It took Sherlock a while to be able to calm down. When his sobs finally died down he pulled back from John and wiped off his face. "I didn't mean to break down like that. I didn't...I've never...I'm sorry."

John was relieved the teen seemed better. "Don't apologize. It's fine. You can do that, with me." John felt like such a crappy friend.

He nodded and swallowed thickly, looking up at John through wet lashes. "I don't feel good enough."

"Good enough for what?" John did not like what he thought Sherlock was about to say.

He looked back down at his feet and shook his head, running his hands through his hair. "Nothing."

He inwardly groaned at the obstinate genius. John caught both hands and kissed the messy swamp of curls. "Don't even. Tell me now."

He didn't want John to be angry with him or worse; for John to leave. He shook his head again and bit down hard on his bottom lip.

John released the teen and placed a hand on Sherlock's cheek, hoping to make the genius look at him. He tried to get rid of the anger he felt from seeing his secret love cry; he wasn't even angry at a specific thing, just angry to see his world upset. After a minute John felt okay, so used to letting go of anger with the curious trouble-maker in his life. "Please, Sherlock. I won't be upset with you."

"For you." Sherlock said quietly, wrapping his arms around himself and pulling away from John. He refused to look up, not wanting to see the look on John's face and yet hoping he wouldn't leave.

"How can such a brilliant person be such an idiot?" John swore he both didn't realise and hadn't meant to say that aloud. He decided to just roll with it, now that he said it. He used the blunt statement and grabbed Sherlock's hand, hoping he was too stunned to pull away again. "I feel that way every single time you text me, or call me, or hang out with me when you could be experimenting. Every time you choose me, I think 'Sherlock is picking me over that? Really? What's he doing that for, he's a genius. Should have realised I was not worth the time years ago.'." John need to think for a moment. "So many times, I think I'm not good enough for you, and you've been thinking the opposite, for god knows how long," He was admittedly overwhelmed. "How can you think that?"

"I told you, I'm put together wrong. Everything about me is wrong! I can't...I'm not anything that I want to be. I'm not anything that I know...you want me to be. And maybe you don't know it now but in the future you aren't going to want me. You;re going to want some woman who you can raise a family with. Have children. Be able to be seen in public with without your family hating you for it. I don't know. I know it sounds sily but I want to be...I don't know. I'm not happy like this. How I am now." Sherlock spoke so fast that he barely took a breath.

"If you think that you're not anything I want you to be then you don't know me. You're everything I could ever want, and I don't give a damn how you are on the outside as long as my Sherlock is there inside, because damn-it I love a person who knows almost everything and can tell a life-story from a glance, and that much incredibleness does not have a gender or an appearance or a body. I don't want some woman for a family; I can have a family with you, if you want, or we can just not. I don't see any reason why we couldn't raise a family together, you and I, or adopt kids. As for my family, only Harry's around and mom and dad already know she's a lesbian and don't seem to care. I wouldn't give a damn if they objected, because fuck that. I want to be with you, you hear that? I choose you, and you know what? Whatever we can do to make you happy with yourself, we'll do. If you want to dress like a girl sometimes, I'll support you and I'll be there for you. You'll still be my Sherlock, you'll just look a bit different." John also rushed this out, passionately and without thinking of how it sounded. He just hoped something in it would make Sherlock fell okay again.

His bottom lip wobbled again but this time it wasn't because he was sad or upset, it was purely from relief. Sherlock pulled John towards the bed and ungracefully fell into his arms, curling as close to him as he could. "I've done everything I could to just get someone to care." He admitted quietly. "And then you came along and suddenly someone cared. But I can't help the way I am. I've never liked myself. I've never felt comfortable. Just when I'm around you." He was quiet for a few moments before he nuzzled John's neck. "Does this mean you'll help me pick out some clothes?"

John was going to say something sweet, but just grinned at the last question, always amazed by how quickly Sherlock could recover from something. John snugged him fiercely and decided he would never let go of Sherlock. At least for awhile. "I've always liked you, maybe enough for the both of us," He admitted. "And, of course. Anytime." John was genuinely surprised, but he did in fact find going clothes shopping with Sherlock to seem fun. Perhaps because it was so domestic, and Sherlock never did domestic things.

Sherlock nodded and sniffed, finally seeming to calm down."Thank you." He muttered against John's skin.

**A/N****: I know it ended abruptly, but the person had to leave and I didn't want to change it. Have a nice day, whoever's reading:D**


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